Chapter 31: Breakfast Blowout

When he emerged from the bedroom, Sophie was plating their breakfasts. “Eggs Florentine. It’s like Eggs Benedict, but without the pork. Hollandaise with Spinach Flakes, Poached Eggs, Toasted English Muffins.”

They ate with enthusiasm. Then he looked at Carrie. “After this great breakfast, you and I should clean up. OK?” Carrie left her chair and brought her cereal bowl and spoon from earlier. Roberto had seen a rubber stool and dragged it front of the kitchen sink. He stoppered the smaller side and filled it with warm soapy water and a sponge. Working together, they cleaned and rinsed the plates and flatware, placing them in a rack to dry.

“Thank you for helping, Carrie.” He smooched her forehead and she scampered off with a giggle. To Sophie, “She’s a great kid, you must be proud.” He nudged away the stool and cleaned the remaining pans and the blender.

They moved to the couch, overhearing Carrie in her bedroom playing with her Legos. “Look at that kitchen I didn’t have to clean. Listen to my happy daughter playing.” She put his hand on her breast. “Feel my sexual satisfaction.”

“It’s a perfect day already with you. I don’t want it to end.” She pulled him closer for another deep kiss.

“But you need fresh clothes, I’m afraid. And I have to work again. So I should send you home soon.”

He winced when she mentioned work. “Sophie, tell me about this job, I don’t understand it.”

“They hired me directly from the cooking classes at the Junior College. Since it was my first kitchen job, I accepted their low wages. But it wasn’t, and isn’t, cooking. I’m standing the whole-time making salads according to their exact specifications, over and over. Any deviation and that salad is rejected, trashed, and I have to make another one while being cursed at. The pace is hellish. At the end of my shift I’m so tired I can’t see straight. I wake up sometimes still wearing my work outfit. I guess you helped me undress last night, thank you.”

“Why do you stay when the job is so horrible?”

“A few reasons. I have been able to have Kaiser (health insurance) for Carrie and for myself. Not really cooking means I don’t have the experience I should. I have been told not to use them as a reference, because I showed no competence at cooking. And we are too poor to survive any period of unemployment while I search for a better job. Not to mention Grandma is getting too frail to keep watching Carrie while I’m working.”

Sophie’s happy mood had collapsed. And he was upset for her. She was trapped, he thought, and he worried her situation was only getting worse. He desperately wanted to help, but how?

“Sophie, honey, you’re right. I do need fresh clothes, so I’m going home.”

She cried out, “No!” and buried her face in his chest, openly crying.

“Sophie, Sophie,” he soothed. “I’m coming back. Until this all works out, I’m your new sitter. You’ll feel more in control when Carrie’s being looked after. And we can have great sex, too. That’s got to help.”

“You mean it?”

“I do. Sophia Aida Revello, may I be your housemate?”

“You may, Roberto Garcia, provided you keep up with the mating part.” Sophia’s 1,000-watt smile returned, and she petted between his legs. “Come back soon.”

“I will,” he promised.